Staring blankly out the window she watched as streaming rain pounded sideways blurring the traffic lights as he drove towards their new home.

Pretending to sleep most of the way from the airport to avoid another lecture, she gained some insight on his plans as he spoke quietly on the phone to her psychiatrist.

The discussion centered on her medications and therapy sessions based on the strict requirements of her release from Haven Cove, a mental institution that sat high on a cliff overlooking the ocean far up along the rocky coast of Maine.

She didn't flinch as he pulled into the driveway and removed the keys from the ignition, her focus was elsewhere, like a silent scream that no one could hear but her.

"This bullshit is going to stop tonight, the so called agoraphobia, this ridiculous debilitating depression, and of course your paralyzing panic attacks are all going to end Riley. Your little stunt to get out of this move nearly cost me a job of a lifetime. To be perfectly honest I would've left you in that grey dank sanitarium if my boss wasn't such a right winged Christian freak who's obsessed with the sanctity of family. He's under the impression that we're this young happy couple starting out in life. So you're going to play the part. You're going to be that perfect wife, you're going attend charity events, host dinner parties, basically do whatever else is expected so that we fit into this world."

Leaning in close he whispered in her ear as she clung to the door handle her eyes fixed up towards the house.

"Because Riley if you don't you are going to find yourself right back in that hell hole, and this time I'll make sure you stay there forever."

Gripping her wrist as she tried to open the door he spoke through gritted teeth as his fingers dug into her pale skin.

"Do we have an understanding?"

Riley nodded timidly once as her big dark eyes focused on a dim light emulating from the attic window above.

Inside his fingertips drifted over Byron's words as he sat knees to his chest on the floor beside the small window in the attic.

He had lost count of the years since she shut him out, like many of the other ghosts she had faded away over time purposely avoiding him out of punishment or just the sheer boredom of his pleas for her return.

Either way he had grown accustom to the isolation, even finding comfort in the silence, finding that it seem to quiet the voices in his head.

Several families had come and gone during this time, none of which had held any interest for him.

Years ago he'd catch a glimpse of Moira, or hear the faint cry of Ben and Vivian's baby, which was enough for him to retreat up into the ceiling with his books for good.

Night turned to day and back again, dates, years, nothing held any meaning, strange voices and sometimes faceless people would come up to investigate, but he was oblivious to it all.

Numb from the loss of her he took solace in being alone, it was what he wanted now, for he had truly grown dead inside.

The spark, the passion, the urgency of his needs had turned to mere dust and decay, rotten and cold.

It was nearly three am when the door slammed and the sound of heavy footsteps charged up the steps into the master bedroom.

His muscles stiffened at the thought of new people, the house was more at peace when it was empty, no mortal souls for restless spirits to have their fun he supposed.

It wasn't long before the echo of a low deep snore drifted along the barren rooms rising up to his ears.

Dropping his book to the ground he rested his mass of blonde curls on his arms that were now wrapped tight around his knees.

He had hoped sleep would find him but the rain outside had turned into a torrential downpour, hammering the pane of the window like the tips of finger nails drowning out the incessant snoring downstairs, and the pull from the cord beneath him as the steps folded downward.

He wasn't aware of her presence until she was standing next to him staring out the window at the storm as it bent the trees whipping wet leaves violently back and forth.

Irritated he gripped the back of his thick hair clutching his jaw as he angrily squeezed his eyes shut in the anticipation of her leaving.

Running her hand over the book by her bare feet she read the title that was lit by the antique dusty lamp oddly resting on the floor.

A soft, barely audible whisper left her as she bent down beside him.

"I like poetry too."

Lifting his head he stilled struck by her beauty as she made her way to the stairs.

She was young, thin, pale skin wet from the rain with long dark straight black hair clinging to flushed cheeks and shivering bare porcelain shoulders.

Before she took her leave she lifted long feathered eyelashes up in his direction as droplets of water slipped over full parted lips falling off her chin disappearing between the valley of her breasts.

It was clear she couldn't see him by the way her dark eyes fixated on a crack of the wall beside his head, but somehow she knew he was there all the same.

"My name is Riley, I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

Standing quickly he opened his mouth only to remain hidden and silent confused knowing she was very much part of the living world.

A crooked smile lifted her wet lips as she nodded overwhelmed by the feeling that she was intruding before disappearing from the attic.

It was the first intimate connection he had in decades, she was like a flame, warm, inviting drawing him in.

Appearing beneath the attic he immediately needed more, this need was all consuming, he felt her pull in his bones outward skimming along his skin like electricity.

Silently he followed her small wet footprints down the hall towards the sound of her racing heartbeat, towards the warmth of the light that pierced the darkness all around him.

Peering in kitchen he found her once again staring out the window, her hands pressed lightly against the glass.

It was then that he noticed the dark red imprints around her wrist.

The beautiful bird with the raven hair that found its way into the house has a broken wing, how interesting, he thought to himself as he surmised the origins of the beast that put his hands on her snoring in the other room.

Moving closer he felt almost dizzy from the power of their connection.

It was as if she was breathing life back into him, it was exhilarating, beyond the control he held to so desperately.

She felt him standing behind her, towering over her small frame like a force of nature demanding its will.

Dropping her hands from the glass she grasped the counter for support as he leaned closer.

"Show yourself."

She was breathless, weak from the energy her was pulling from her, but she was not afraid.

"Please, w-who are you?"

Suddenly she felt a rush of coldness surrounding her, above, below, inside her very being.

Her gaze lifted mesmerized at his reflection standing tall over her shoulder into the window.

A blonde mop of curls surround him like a halo, as penetrating eyes as black as night took hold of her gripping her from places that were kept secret and hidden.

He was beautiful, fierce and wild, like nothing she had ever known.

She wondered briefly if he were an angel until he brushed his lips to her ear before dissipating into nothing before her wide eyes.

"My name is Tate."

The sound of his voice rushed through her evoking needs and desires that were far from holy.

He was no angel, that much she knew, but she had the strongest feeling he might just be her salvation.